


The Baker behind my Back

by FullmetalSunshine (Baekhanded)



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist (Anime 2003), Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Bakery, Enemies to Friends, Getting to Know Each Other, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-11-07
Packaged: 2021-01-06 01:18:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21218174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Baekhanded/pseuds/FullmetalSunshine
Summary: "Al was perfect for front of house and Winry was like their perfect decoration in the corner, tinkering away on her various machines and sometimes making perfect cups of coffee for the paying customers when the mood struck. Ed stayed behind the scenes, covered in flour as he threw perfectly calculated and measured ingredients into a bowl.All the while contending with his own personal hell in the form of the ‘pastry chef’ next door. Next door meaning right behind his back."





	1. A Smug Bastard

**Author's Note:**

> Hi please know I am absolutely FULL of fear posting this because its Not good and it's Extremely Dumb but alas here we are and here we go. It's something I thought would be fun when I was baking with my mom this past saturday, we have a tiny kitchen and we were about back to back but we were both listening to WILDLY different music so....enjoy my garbage?

There was something to be said about the magic of a good home cooked meal. Or even a good, home cooked treat. There are few things better than coming home after a hard day and being enveloped in the warmth and scent of your mother cooking up a storm.

That wasn’t really something Ed had experienced in a really long time, but the point still stands. Plus Al really likes home cooked food. Ed just likes food but he’d do anything for Al.

Even, apparently, rent a building that shared a kitchen with some posh bakery next door. 

No one would be able to guess by just looking at him, but Ed was a maestro in the kitchen, and baked goods were his symphonies. The recipes made sense, and even if he swung wildly outside the box so far that there wasn’t any point of even having a recipe, he still came out the other side unscathed with something more than edible. 

Al was perfect for front of house and Winry was like their perfect decoration in the corner, tinkering away on her various machines and sometimes making perfect cups of coffee for the paying customers when the mood struck. Ed stayed behind the scenes, covered in flour as he threw perfectly calculated and measured ingredients into a bowl.

All the while contending with his own personal hell in the form of the ‘pastry chef’ next door. Next door meaning right behind his back. 

It would be a small kitchen for  _ one  _ shop, and here Ed was, in all his antisocial glory baking with some pretentious snob that looked at his, maybe less than magazine perfect pastries as if they had personally offended him. Had killed his mother right before his eyes. 

They had almost come to blows several times. And it had only been a week since they’ve cohabitated. 

  
  


  
*   
  


  
  


The first time was practically the first minute Ed walked in the door. Ed knew he had to be on his best behavior, and swallowed all of his perfectly rational rants about how in the  _ shit  _ was he supposed to work in a space so small? Instead what tried to come out was something polite like, “Since we gotta work in such close proximity, my name’s Ed what’s yours?” 

He barely got a word in before his Arch Enemy let out a very insulting, “Oh, you’ve  _ got  _ to be kidding me, whose kid is this?”

If Al and Winry weren’t right on his heel’s that exapserated, stupid smug face woud’ve gotten immediately caved in.

He hadn’t even apologized after Al smoothed the situation, he just made a face that made Ed want to beat him into a tiny grease spot on the floor and said “Don’t get in my way.”

  
  
  


*

  
  
  


The second time it happened wasn’t even a full work day later. Ed was trying to get his bearings in the tiny kitchen while trying not to remember the large, bright kitchens from home. It wasn’t  _ his  _ fault this guy treated the whole kitchen like it belonged solely to  _ him _ . Anyways he knocked over a tray of something that was  _ way  _ too intricately plated.

He had opened his mouth to apologize but the guy had cut him off again, “If you’re going to act like a child get out of the kitchen!”

And really, who could blame Ed for what he did, or said?    
  


While staring the infuriating man (up) into his dark eyes, he pushed another tray of intricate pastry to the floor, “Don’t act like the whole damn kitchens yours and we won’t have a problem, got it?”

The man looked like he would blow, so Ed grinned, “Keep your fancy shit out of my side of the room, and I won’t be tempted to destroy it, keep you out of my side of the room, and maybe you can stay in one piece. Call me a kid again and we really get to test out of people can tell the difference between beef and human meat pies.”

He towered over Ed but Ed didn’t back away or back down, “Don’t get in my way, and don’t threaten me.  _ You  _ keep to  _ that _ side of the kitchen, and I’ll agree, we have no need for problems. Don’t let whatever drivel you make pollute my food.” 

It was a heated stare down that was only broken by a timer and a bell accompanied by Al’s voice in greeting.

  
  


*

  
  


The third time was early the third morning. Ed had been baking all night, the counters were full and so were the trays. (When one couldn’t sleep. One baked their heart and nightmares away) 

He was latticing and rolling roses for a pie when he heard a derisive, “Do people actually pay you real money for this?” 

Ed felt his eye twitch as he blinked away the blur and black spots. He leaned against the counter and crossed his arms, the tight metal grip on his flesh forearm keeping him grounded, “Oh, gee, I dunno. I gotta think yes, since we’re makin pretty damn good profits. But what do I know? It’s not intricate or delicate or time consuming and nonsensical as the bullshit you make so you tell me genius, do people buy it?” 

Maybe it was the look on his face or the tone of his voice but the Bastard Chef shut up real quick and prepared his own section for the day while Ed finished his pie top and began to stock the front display.

  
  


*

  
  


It continued like this for a long while, then it all came to a head about a month after the Elric’s Homemade Bakes moved in.

Ed couldn’t really remember what had set them off this time, couldn’t remember the exact wording. He could only remember the red that fell over his vision, the feel of his heart racing and the creak of metal as his right hand clenched and then what the cast iron pan looked like after he hit it. Bile rose in his throat at the look on the Bastard’s face and he didn’t wait to rush out the back door.

He ignored the calls of his name and ran to an alley where he could dry heave in peace.

  
  


*

  
  


It was beyond quiet after that, no heckling, no teasing. Nothing. They just worked in peace, in silence. Or near silence as their respective places of work’s chosen music drifted through the doors every now and again.

It took a week for it to break.

“I’m...I am truly sorry for what I said...last week,” the Bastard spoke and Ed tensed, “I shouldn’t have said it. You’re right, I don’t know anything about you and using something like that to get a rise out of you was not just wrong, but it was unforgivable, and I truly apologize.” 

Ed let out a weak laugh at that, “Not unforgivable, just...bastardly. I already knew you were a bastard and it’s not like it’s the first time I've heard it. I’ve just got a short temper. So...apology accepted ...I guess, just don’t do it again or next time it really will be your face.”    
  
He tried to lighten the mood with a joke but it still felt awkward. He wanted to puke.

The Bastard laughed, “Now that would be a true shame.” 

Ed snorted and shot a look over his shoulder, “What the hell does that mean?”

“To damage this face, don’t you think it’d be a shame?” Oh, the Bastard was teasing him now.

Ed barked a laugh of his own, “Oh  _ please,  _ I think i’d be doin you a favor, wipe that smug ass look off your stupid smug face forever.” 

“My dear, tiny baker, what ever makes you think I look  _ smug?”  _ He sounded aghast.

“Your goddamn  _ face  _ makes me  _ know  _ you look smug! And this fancy pants bakery you work at!” Ed snorted and rolled his eyes, ignoring the little spark in his soul at the back and forth.  _ Extra  _ ignoring the ‘tiny baker’ comment.

The Bastard just laughs, “I’ll admit my ego is a bit inflated, but you can hardly blame me. This ‘fancy pants bakery’ put this town on the map. Do you have any idea how many people come by just to get a peek at half of these nonsense things?” 

Ed grunted, “Whatever, you might drag ‘em in but I'm what's keepin’ ‘em here. Nothin’ like a homemade meal to make you feel safe and warm and wanna stay.”

“I can’t really deny that. I must admit, contrary to what I've said in the past, you’ve got that homemade touch down. And I’m not too proud to admit that when I come in early in the mornings and I smell that you’ve been here even longer baking your heart away, well it does transport me to what I assume a happy home like in the country feels like.” the Bastard’s voice had gone soft.

Ed felt soft himself and found he has taken to a gentler touch than he’d been with the past week, “It is, from what I remember. It’s probably no shock to you that we  _ do  _ actually come from the country, and these sure as shit are mom’s old recipes.”

It was silent for awhile the two sharing their first bout of companionable silence ever since the move in. 

“You know,” the Bastard’s voice was still soft, maybe softer, “I don’t think I ever got your name before I decided I wanted to make your life hell.”   
  
Ed gave a quiet laugh, “Edward, but i’ll kill you if you call me anything but Ed. What about you? Not like it matters ‘cause ’m gonna call ya Bastard anyways.” 

“That’s decidedly fair, but in case the mood ever strikes, my name is Roy.” the Bastard said.

And if Ed thought the name with no detected venom, well no one but he and his brain would ever know.

And Al. Because Al knew everything.


	2. It all comes together in the end

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Life went on, as they said. Ed kept coming into work, kept meeting Roy on various early mornings. Sometimes they shared words, more often they shared their presence and on one memorable occasion Ed leaned his weight against Roy’s side, head on his shoulder and woke to the sound of Al’s chipper greeting and Roy’s steadying hands as he rocketed to his feet and almost tipped right back over again. "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't wanna post this so late, but alas i've waited long enough so here it is!

It was a little like magic, if Ed believed in that at all. Ever since Roy bridged the gap, tensions were nonexistent in the kitchen and Ed had started to actually  _ enjoy  _ going into that tiny kitchen every day. He didn’t feel so claustrophobic or angry anymore. He still had his late/all night baking moments, but it was starting to feel like either Roy had them too, or he was eerily in sync with Ed’s nightmare schedule.

“I’m starting to think you don’t sleep at all,” Ed didn’t even get startled anymore.

He only shrugged and looked up (and up and up) into Roy’s eyes, “I could say the same about you ya know, what brings you in at,” he squints, “four in the morning? I know you’re not  _ that  _ early a riser. Still got an hour to go.”

Roy only shrugged and sat across from Ed on the flour streaked floor, “Just felt like I needed to come in. You feel like talking today, or shall I distract you?” 

Ed shrugged, “What made you wanna make fancy pastries?”   
  
Distracting it was.

Roy hummed and leaned back against the counter, “It was a wild hare a friend of mine had, and we just fell into it. The focus needed to make sure everything comes out perfect and uniform, and then decorated leaves little space for the mind to wander. So I just stuck with it.”

It didn’t take a genius to be able to read between the lines, and it didn’t take a genius to know not to bring it up. They were both keeping nightmares at bay.

“I get that,” Ed said softly, leaning his head back against his counter, eyes to the ceiling, “I can get like that with books and stuff too. Anything to take my mind off’a the present- off of whatever dumb bullshit’s on a loop.” 

Roy let out a soft laugh at that and Ed let them dissolve once more into a companionable silence.

  
  


*

  
  


Life went on, as they said. Ed kept coming into work, kept meeting Roy on various early mornings. Sometimes they shared words, more often they shared their presence and on one memorable occasion Ed leaned his weight against Roy’s side, head on his shoulder and woke to the sound of Al’s chipper greeting and Roy’s steadying hands as he rocketed to his feet and almost tipped right back over again. 

  
  


*

  
  


It was busier than usual, at least in the kitchen. On both sides, so their other’s had to be swamped on the customer service side as well. There was little Ed could do to make things bake faster or puff bigger so he didn’t bother. He turned and stood on his tip toes to peer over Roy’s shoulder.

“You should add some cinnamon to that.” He didn’t even think before opening his mouth, and Roy didn’t think before heeding his advice. 

Any hint of tension that tried to enter Ed’s body at speaking died down immediately and he rested contently against Roy’s shoulder until their oven dinged.

  
  


*

  
  


“Hey, how do you...well, I mean,” Roy hesitated, and instead of feeling annoyed Ed felt amused.

He shot a grin over his shoulder, “Spit it out Bastard, I don’t have all day.”

He made a very interesting face and bit the proverbial bullet, “How can you ...work with dough or water without...you know...getting it everywhere.”

Ed had expected something about it, anything really. But not that, not something so innocent or simple.

“I gotta sleeve for the dough work, keeps it all outta the nooks and crannies, as for the water,” he shrugged, “just gotta dry it real well after ‘m done. Wanna see it?”

That shocked him into finally meeting Ed’s gaze. He looked almost shy and Ed preened. 

Silently.

In his head, where only he and Al knew his secrets.

He sidled closer and wiggled metal fingers, “They only bite sometimes.”

Roy snorted, “What does that even mean.”

It wasn’t a question, but he took Ed’s hand like it was something precious. Like an artifact that would shatter should he breathe on it wrong.

He couldn’t feel the gentle brush of fingertips, nor the heat from his skin but he felt his nerves alight anyways. He felt the tingle travel all the way from his finger tip straight to his heart.

Roy’s eyes slowly met his, and his lips breathed, “Beautiful.”

  
  


*

  
  


“There are easier ways to do that.” 

“Fuckin-! Mother fuck what the shit don’t fuckin’ sneak up on me!” Ed screamed and Roy leaned against his doorway smugly with a smug look on his stupid smug face. Ed flipped him off, flcking all manner of decor at him as he did.

Roy only laughed as he walked over and peered at Ed’s messy fancy work. He felt his cheeks flush as Roy hemmed and hawed over his head, “Show me exactly what you’re doing.”

Ed grumbled, but did as he was told. 

He was expecting words and criticism and helpful words.

He wasn’t expecting the arms reaching around him.

He wasn’t expecting the fingers to practically lace with his own.

He wasn’t expecting such a hands on learning experience.

His brain was splitting apart. 

Learn. Technique. Hands. Roy. Dough. Frosting. Hands. Piping. Shaping. Hands, hand _ s, hands. Roy Roy RoyRoyRoy. _

He didn’t say a word but his heart was screaming. 

He didn’t say anything as he squeezed his fingers oh so gently.

Didn’t say a word as he released the fingers and prayed the arms stayed put. (They did.)

Didn’t even breathe as he turned in those arms and looked up. (And up, and up, up,  _ up.) _

No one said anything as small, flour covered hands pressed gently against a dark blue button up. Nothing as they trailed up to the collar, or as they pressed flat to the delicate bones beneath a throat. Nothing as weight was distributed to the tips of flesh and metal toes. 

“Got a long way to go, Tiny Baker.” Roy’s words were whispered against barely there lips.

“Shut the hell up, you smug bastard.” Was pressed against those lips while flesh and metal hands cupped a jaw and an opposing set met behind him on a metal and flesh shoulder blade and gently trailed down to rest on hips.

  
  


*

  
  


It started out beyond antagonistic, with threats hurled here and a broken appliance there. Barbs and insults and glass and pain. 

It ends somewhere between an intricate french pastry has the taste of home, and a mother’s apple pie is covered in carefully carved leaves and roses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let me know what yall think! I know its short and dumb but hey! everyone needs a lil reprieve every once in awhile! Also keep your eyes peeled...i may be working on something more awesome than this....that may or may not have to do with a classic Movie about a certain Egyptian Creature..... can you guess what it is?

**Author's Note:**

> let me know what you think! i have....more coming up eventually soon probably!


End file.
